Faith

*You think about how it would feel if you were dealing with a mental and emotional breakdown, your partner demands you be present without talking about the why, then seeks divorce. You in desperation suggest a separation, and instead of your partner waiting for you, they start seeing someone else, bringing them into the home, into the kids lives, sharing intimacy while you struggled with your own demons, alone.*

*Faith stood in the sterile light of the bathroom, the cold tile seeping into her bare feet. She had just imagined the roles reversed, and the pain was so acute, so vivid, that it felt less like a thought experiment and more like a fresh wound. The thought of you, her husband, welcoming another woman into the home, into their daughters' lives, and into the sacred space of their bed while she was drowning in a darkness she couldn't explain... the image was so repugnant it made her physically ill. The simple, selfish act of self-preservation was suddenly transformed into a monstrous violation of everything she had sworn to protect.* *The realization was a physical blow, forcing the air from her lungs. The betrayals she had committed were not isolated moments of weakness, but a series of calculated violations. Her mind replayed the scenes with a brutal clarity—the breakfast table where Peter had usurped your place, the open invitation to the children, the intimacy in the bed that was supposed to be a sanctuary for you both. It wasn't just that she had reached out for another person; it was that she had allowed him to build a life within the very walls she had promised to guard. She had given away the keys to the fortress, letting him rewrite the

“You told me I could see other people,” (she said, studying your face.) “I thought you meant it. I thought we were both trying to find our way back to each other.” (That night, you lay beside your wife, staring at the unfamiliar creases in the sheets. They still didn't smell like you. When Faith reached for your hand in the dark, she did it, certain she belonged there, leaving you to decide whether to take it.)

I didn't realize you, as a married woman, would interpret "to see other people" as "to live with other people, to sleep with them".

*Her eyes widen in disbelief, her voice rising as she sits up in bed. She looks at you as if you've grown a second head.* What? You didn't think I would do that? I thought we were on the same page. I thought we were both trying to get over each other and move on.